


RAPTURE

by chrmisha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, PWP without Porn, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 15:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11405058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrmisha/pseuds/chrmisha
Summary: The war rages on with heavy losses on both sides. What happens when an adult Harry Potter seeks to make the life of Severus Snape just a little bit more tolerable? A/U. Angsty romance/slash/PWP.





	RAPTURE

**Author's Note:**

> When our story starts, Snape, age 44, is still in the Order, still spying, and still a Potions Master at Hogwarts. Harry is 22 and in the Order as well; Dumbledore is dead. McGonagall is Headmistress and leads the Order in Dumbledore’s place.
> 
> I do not own Harry Potter. All credit goes to JK Rowling.

Severus Snape made his report and was anxious to leave. He may be on the side of the Order, but these people were not his friends. Colleagues at times, associates at others, but he had no doubt that they only begrudgingly tolerated him in memory of Dumbledore. They didn’t trust him and they certainly didn’t like him. He knew all too well that, should the war end tomorrow, these people would be happy to never have to see him again. But he had given his word to Albus that he would carry on, no matter what. For this was the price he paid: the price for his mistakes, his foolhardiness, for the deaths he had caused.

McGonagall reviewed what they’d learned in the meeting, assigned tasks to each member, and dismissed the meeting. Always eager to avoid the socializing afterward, Snape headed for the exit, saying good-bye to no one. They expected this much of him and certainly wouldn’t miss him.

He brushed through the door and up the stairs to the entrance hallway.

“A moment of your time, sir,” a voice said from behind.

Snape turned to see who was following him and scowled. “I have no time for you, Potter.”

“Then make time,” Potter said, coming to stand toe to toe with him. Snape was surprised to realize that Potter was no longer shorter than he.

Potter’s quiet self-assuredness irked Snape. Potter wasn’t a vocal Order member as one might have expected. He didn’t gesticulate like some of the others. He sat quietly and listened. He gave each speaker, including Snape, his fullest attention. Most of the time, Potter’s face showed no emotion—a quality Snape admired, although he’d never tell the man as much.

Now, Potter’s expression was flinty and determined. He pointed to a door off the hall. Snape had assumed it to be coat closet. When Snape opened the door, he found a small, unfurnished room with no windows. He stepped inside, Potter on his heels. He couldn’t imagine what the man wanted. As he turned around to ask, he froze. Potter had his wand trained between Snape’s eyes.

Snape fisted his hands. “I don’t have time for your theatrics, Potter,” he sneered.

“Close the door,” Potter commanded.

Without removing his gaze from Potter, Snape reached behind him and pushed the door shut.

Potter’s eyes hardened and, in the next instant, Snape felt himself thrown up against a wall, unable to move. Potter had used a nonverbal spell to immobilize him. Snape’s wariness increased as Potter placed a locking hex and a notice-me-not spell on the door, and then added silencing charms as well.

Potter stalked toward him, his face unreadable, his gaze unwavering.

Snape twitched, or tried to anyway, but his limbs were not under his control. He tried to use a nonverbal spell on Potter, but Potter flicked it away with a wave of his wand, like a horse flicking away an irksome fly.

“What do you think you are doing, Potter?” Snape said, a trickle of dread coursing through his veins as Potter patted him down, found his wand, and removed it. Snape knew a moment of true alarm when Potter looked as if he was going to snap it, but instead, he placed Snape’s wand on the floor, carefully, by the door.

“Planning on saying something I won’t like?” Snape inquired, making his voice as condescending as possible.

Potter slashed his wand through the air and Snape flinched inwardly, but all that happened was his outer robes vanished, reappearing on the floor by his feet. Potter picked them up, folded them with precision, and placed them, too, by the door.

Then Potter advanced on him, radiating purpose more than menace. He didn’t meet Snape’s eyes, which Snape found immensely disconcerting. And then the damn wizard started unbuttoning Snape’s shirt.

“Potter, what in Merlin’s name do you think you are doing?” Snape demanded.

Potter ignored him, undoing Snape’s buttons in a businesslike manner, no emotion evident on his face. When that was done, Potter undid Snape’s belt.

Snape sucked in a breath.

And then Potter undid the top button of Snape’s trousers and snicked the zipper down.

“Potter!” Snape exclaimed.

But Potter never looked up. Instead, he cast a cushioning charm at Snape’s feet, knelt down, and slid Snape’s trousers and briefs down to the older wizard’s ankles.

“What the…” Snape began, but caught his breath as he felt Potter exhale a current of warm air against him. “Potter…” Snape snarled through clenched teeth.

Then he hissed as he felt himself enclosed in the wet heat of Potter’s mouth. Fingers brushed his waist, slipped along the indents of his hips, slid through his pubic hair, caressed his balls—all while Potter laved and caressed and sucked Snape’s growing erection.

Snape groaned at the sensation; he hadn’t been touched by another in longer than he could remember. “Why are you doing this?” he rasped.

His only response was an increase in Potter’s ministrations, as Potter sucked on him harder, his fingers sliding to the sensitive spot behind his sac, massaging, demanding.

Snape moaned and bucked, or tried to. He still couldn’t move. Potter seemed to sense his needs, though, increasing his rhythm, providing the counter to the thrusts Snape was unable to make.

One of Potter’ hands grasped Snape’s shaft, squeezing, caressing, the saliva from Potter’s mouth providing lubrication. Then Potter took him in deep, sucking and stroking, and Snape shivered in sweet agony. Potter’s other hand slid to the erotic spot behind his nuts, pressing, fondling, kneading.

Snape felt his breathing grow rapid as the sensations swelled. It had been too long, too long since he’d felt another. Too long since a man had blown him with such fervor.

“Potter…” he warned, his voice choked, but the infuriating man didn’t stop. Instead Potter squeezed and sucked harder, his hand a tight band around Snape’s cock, urging him toward completion.

“Potter… I…” Whatever he was going to say was lost on a shout as his orgasm burst through him, coming in waves, driving him past sanity, as Potter’s nimble mouth and hands milked him for all he was worth.

Snape closed his eyes, breathing heavily, his body suddenly loose and heavy. Through lidded eyes, he watched as Potter got to his feet, dragged a hand across his mouth, and stepped toward the door. Releasing the spells in the room, Potter exited, without so much as a word or a look. 

Snape stared after him, wondering what in Merlin’s name _that_ was about. He quickly did up his trousers and shirt, still trying to regain his breath. Potter had demanded nothing of him, giving yet not receiving. Snape shook his head, unsure what the hell had just happened. And why.

When he left the room, he was alone. He hadn’t thought Potter would have stuck around, but it was still damn strange. Shaking his head, he left Grimmauld Place and apparated from the front stoop.

* * *

The next Order meeting was called urgently and took place a couple of days later. Snape glanced at Potter, who met his eyes only long enough to give a curt nod. Snape spent much of the meeting surreptitiously studying the younger man, who didn’t return his glances. Potter was an adult now, 22: five years past majority. The war had been raging for the past seven years, with heavy losses on both sides. Hermione Granger had been severely and permanently injured and, although she could no longer help in the physical fighting, her mind was as sharp as ever. Bill Weasley had been killed in a battle a couple of years back. Tonks’ father was dead. Mad-Eye Moody was gone. Many others had been killed, too. And although the losses must have affected Potter greatly, he didn’t show it, at least not here.

When the meeting ended, Snape got up to leave as usual, but Potter remained seated. Snape wasn’t sure if he was glad or disappointed.

* * *

A week later, he had stopped by to relay a bit of news to McGonagall. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been there, as well as Arthur Weasley, but no one else. As he made to leave Grimmauld Place, Potter’s home he now knew, a door opened and he felt himself being dragged inside. Potter stood, wand pointed at him, expression guarded.

Potter kicked the door shut, his gaze never leaving Snape’s.

“Really, Potter,” Snape began.

Potter shoved him against the door, hard, capturing Snape’s mouth and effectively silencing him. In the time it took for Snape to regain his senses, Potter had divested him of his wand and his outer robes and had bound him once again.

If Snape could have moved, he’d have shaken his head at himself.

Potter warded the room, folded Snape’s robes, and placed Snape’s wand securely atop them.

“Potter,” Snape tried again, only to have Potter’s mouth cover his in urgent, demanding kisses.

Potter sucked Snape’s tongue into his mouth, demanding and yet giving. Snape had yet to return the eager man’s ministrations but, as one of Potter’s hands slid up under his shirt, found a nipple, and pinched, then rubbed, circling it in time with his tongue in Snape’s mouth, Snape found himself relenting. Potter’s other hand slid lower, stroking Snape through his trousers until he swelled and hardened.

“Why are you doing this?” Snape asked between kisses.

Potter didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him, as his clever hands teased and released, taunted, tormented, while his tongue in Snape‘s mouth urged Snape to respond.

Potter slid his attention to Snape’s neck, sucking and kissing, while he undid Snape’s trousers and slid them down with Snape’s smalls. Snape felt the whisper of a spell, and when Potter touched him next, Potter’s hands were slick, lubricated.

Snape groaned at the delicious friction stroking his erection. When the fingers of Potter’s other hand delved deeper, sliding behind his sac, and further still, Snape caught his breath. The other man wouldn’t…

Snape gasped as a finger penetrated him, slowly, working its way past the tight ring of flesh and inside, stroking him, making him see stars.

“Potter…” he breathed.

Potter circled him inside while stroking his erection outside, and Snape’s stomach clenched. He bit his lip, the pleasure careening inside of him.

“Merlin’s beard, Potter,” Snape moaned, his orgasm pressing in all around him. “Kiss me…”

Potter’s mouth was on his in an instant, and this time it was Snape who was thrusting his tongue, demanding, wanting, driving the kiss.

Then Potter found and rubbed the small, sensitive gland deep inside of Snape, while his other hand squeezed Snape’s cock. Snape came, fast and hard and gloriously long, a guttural cry echoing from his throat as he spurted his release over Potter’s fist.

Potter’s mouth softened, his tongue more gentle now, as Snape tried to catch his breath. Panting, Snape’s eyes widened as Potter raised his fist, extended his tongue, and lapped up Snape’s cum, eliciting another deep growl from Snape.

Finished, Potter spun away, pushed Snape away from the door, and exited, leaving Snape thoroughly relaxed and debauched, and equally as confused. Potter could have demanded anything of him; another man would have. Surely Potter had needs. But he hadn’t, and that was as confusing as anything else.

* * *

Three more Order meetings came and went, and Potter hadn’t done more than give him a curt nod upon his arrival. The fourth meeting was running long, and Snape was eager to be gone from this place. He scratched the back of his neck, unsure of everything. It made no sense.

Tensions were running high as the end neared. They would succeed or they would fail, and it wasn’t clear which side would come out victorious.

When the meeting adjourned, Snape got up to leave. Glancing at Potter, he found the man gazing intently at him, his eyes stark with promise. Snape felt a shiver slide through his spine, settling in his abdomen with warm anticipation. Snape nodded curtly and left the kitchen, hoping he hadn’t misunderstood.

He went to the small windowless room, and waited, cursing himself for becoming a pawn in Potter’s game. He was going to get answers, he decided. He waited, wand poised, ready. And waited. And waited some more. Had he misjudged that look? Doubting his interpretation of Potter’s gaze, he lowered his wand, and that’s when it happened.

“Expelliarmus,” Potter said.

Snape’s wand slipped from his fingers as Potter opened the door, caught it neatly, and shut and warded the door.

Snape cursed, his hands flying to his hips. “Potter, this is ridiculous…” Snape’s words died in his throat at the look on the other man’s face.

It was white with furry, eyes blazing with rage, or was it… anguish? “Potter?” Snape questioned.

A flick of Potter’s wand had Snape standing naked, his cock at half-mast, as Potter conjured a bed along one wall.

Potter glanced toward it. “Hands and knees,” Potter said, a command, not a request.

Snape opened his mouth to protest, but Harry raised their wands together, his gaze unyielding, Potter’s expression still eclipsed by that haunted expression.

Clenching his jaw, Snape crawled onto the bed, intending to work his way into the corner, sit there, and demand answers. But Potter, damn him, immobilized him mid-crawl. Snape was frozen in place awkwardly, with one arm and one leg extended farther than the other. But he was on his hands and knees.

“Damn it, Potter!” Snape snapped.

Potter’s gaze held no mercy. Then he stepped out of Snape’s line of vision, somewhere behind him.

Snape gritted his teeth in frustration. “I’m sick of your games, Potter. If you…”

And then he felt a freshening charm on his bum, followed by the sensation of hot, wet heat as Potter’s tongue landed behind his bollocks and licked, in a long stroke, over his perineum, his opening, and all the way up his cleft.

“Potter…” Snape gasped.

Potter licked again, and again, stroking wet heat setting Snape’s nerves on edge. And when Potter stopped licking in long strokes, it was only to focus on Snape’s opening.

The delicious, swirling circles of hot fire had Snape moaning with desire. When Potter pushed his tongue inside, Snape shuddered and mewled. “Potter…” he rasped, his body desperate to push into the younger man’s administrations, to buck his hips in pleasure, to _move_.

Then Potter’s fingers joined the fray, stroking behind his sac, pushing, teasing, until finally, finally, they slid upwards, cupping his bollocks first, and then sliding up his cock, coming to rest on the head of it, dipping in to find the pre-cum, spreading it around.

Snape groaned, long and low, as Potter’s tongue worked his opening and Potter’s hand fisted around his erection, stroking him, squeezing, pulling. And then Potter stilled, squeezed, licked, stilled again.

Snape tried to buck his hips, his body begging for more, but he couldn’t move. “Potter,” he rasped. A squeeze, a lick. “Don’t stop...” A stroke, a tongue thrusting inside of him. “Please… oh Merlin… Don’t Stop.”

And then Potter was thrusting with his tongue, his hand pumping Snape, until Snape was keening in pleasure, crying out Potter’s name, and coming, pulsing, over and over, long, and hard, his body clenched in pure ecstasy.

Potter stroked him inside and out until Snape stilled, sated and exhausted. Then Potter’s hands left him and he felt the man lay his cheek on Snape’s back, his fingers swirling gentle circles on Snape’s stomach. When Snape’s limbs started to shake, Potter released him. Snape collapsed onto the bed.

“Potter,” Snape groaned at the sudden loss of the other man’s touch. But the man was already striding away, the door closing behind him.

Snape lay spent on the bed, breathing heavily, the memory of exquisite pleasure etched clearly in his mind, and one thought echoing through his head. _What the fuck did Potter want with him?_

* * *

The next time they met, merely five days later, was on the battlefield, in the midst of Voldemort’s demise. When it was all over, Snape was amazed to find himself relatively unscathed. The Dark Lord was dead, Potter had survived, though many others had not, and what Death Eaters weren’t killed had been rounded up and sent to Azkaban. The only reason Snape wasn’t among them was because of the Order members’ stringent protests and support. As it happened, Snape had cast the shield that had prevented Voldemort from killing Potter, while enabling Potter to finish the tyrant once and for all.

Once the melee had settled, Snape had returned to his quarters, showered, and poured himself a tall glass of whiskey. It was finally over. His time as a spy, the war. He laid his head back and sighed, drifting between dreams and drowsy awareness.

The falling of his wards, however, had him on his feet, wand drawn, in an instant. A moment later, Harry Potter was coming through his door, his hair wet, his face clean-shaven. He was slipping the invisibility cloak from his shoulders and folding it. He met Snape’s angry glare only briefly.

“Potter,” Snape scoffed. “So nice of you to stop by uninvited.”

Potter locked and re-warded Snape’s quarters, set his now-folded invisibility cloak by the door, and laid his wand atop it.

Snape paused a moment, feeling stunned. _Turnabout is fair play,_ he guessed, at least from Potter’s perspective.

Then Potter walked forward, arms loose at his sides, and stood before Snape. Saying nothing. Potter’s expression was as unreadable as ever.

Snape slapped him across the face, hard.

Potter took the full impact of the blow without complaint. His eyes filled with tears from the pain, and his throat worked to swallow, but still Potter remained silent, eyes averted.

All the words in Snape’s head about Potter having no right left him in that instant. Snape grabbed the man’s shoulders, intending to shake him. Instead, he pushed Potter into the wall, slamming his body against Potter’s, and kissing him. Deep, urgent, needy kisses that Potter returned with vigor. Snape understood what Potter was doing. Potter was offering himself to Snape in a way Snape never had been given the chance or choice to. Potter was giving Snape the chance to seek whatever vengeance or mercy he sought. Potter would not complain either. He would withstand any abuse Snape threw at him for the liberties that Potter had taken with Snape before the final battle.

Snape pulled back from the kiss. “Why?” he demanded.

Potter bowed his head, saying nothing.

“WHY?” Snape roared. Why had Potter done it? Given him pleasure before the war? Why had he come here now, offering himself to Snape’s whims of revenge or gratification or both?

Potter shook his head, and Snape longed to slap him again. Except that he knew Potter would let him, would not begrudge him the retribution, and that made his anger wither and die.

He grabbed Potter’s wrist and dragged him to his bed. “I should tie you up,” he muttered, “and leave you that way.” Potter looked at him coolly. Snape sighed, “But if I did, you wouldn’t be able to touch me, and I find that rather disagreeable.”

Snape pushed Potter onto his mattress and covered the younger man’s body with his own. He plunged his tongue into Potter’s mouth and relished the feel of the younger man’s body straining against his. He had not had the pleasure of feeling Potter’s body before, much less Potter’s reaction to him. Potter’s erection pushed firmly into Snape’s thigh and the younger man’s soft yearning cries filled the silence.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Harry said. “Wanted _you_ for so long.”

“Then why didn’t you let me touch you,” Snape snapped.

A half-smile crossed Potter’s lips. “I thought you’d curse me,” he replied.

“I probably would have,” Snape admitted. “But then I’d have done this,” Snape said, sliding a hand between their bodies and wrapping his hand around Potter’s clothed rigid cock.

Potter made a needy sound in his throat and pushed into Snape’s touch.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” Snape mocked. With a wave of his wand, Potter was naked. Snape kissed and licked and nibbled his way down Potter’s body, eliciting noises that made Snape’s own erection painfully hard.

When Potter reached out to touch him, Snape flicked his wand, binding Harry’s wrists above his head. Potter groaned and rocked his hips, begging for contact. Snape smiled, swirling his tongue around Potter’s nipple, causing the man to buck harder.

With another flick of his wand, Potter’s ankles were bound, legs apart. Potter could still move the rest of his body, though, and the small cries of pleasure and thrust of his hips were music to Snape.

Snape continued the slow torment of Harry Potter, each kiss, each touch designed to elicit the maximum hunger in the man who had tormented him in his dreams before the war. Potter had done more for Snape than Snape would ever admit—he’d taken the bleakest period of his life and made it bearable. He wondered if that’s why Potter had done it, and why Potter wouldn’t explain.

Snape nipped at a bit of skin below Potter’s ribs, eliciting a startled cry, followed by a long, slow noise of pleasure as Snape kissed and caressed the spot. He worked his way down, over Potter’s stomach, to his navel, below.

Potter’s cock was straining to reach him, bouncing and jutting out, the tip coated with pre-cum. Snape exhaled a warm breath onto Potter’s erection, causing the man to sob with need, but Snape didn’t touch him. Instead, he kissed along the indent of Potter’s hips, his fingers trailing down the man’s legs. He licked along Potter’s thighs, knees, shins, and back up again.

By the time Snape reached Potter’s inner thighs with his tongue, Potter was absolutely writhing with need.

Snape licked just shy of his bollocks and Potter cried out, frustration and desire etched in every sound. Snape looked up to meet Potter’s gaze.

“Please,” Potter begged. “Please, just touch me.”

Snape smirked at him. “You really want me to?”

“Oh gods,” Potter moaned, bucking his hips. “I’m begging you…”

“I like when you beg,” Snape said, and ran a long, thin streak of heat along Potter’s erection with the tip of his tongue.

Potter keened loudly, pushing into Snape’s tongue.

Snape reveled in the salty taste of Potter’s pre-cum before engulfing Potter’s erection, taking Potter deep into his mouth.

Potter cried out and thrust into Snape, jerking, panting, seeking.

“Easy there,” Snape said, putting his palms on Harry’s hips and holding the eager man down, slowing Potter’s pace. He placed long, gentle licks along Potter’s length. Potter groaned and tossed his head, and Snape knew full well that it wasn’t enough.

“I want to be inside you when you cum,” Snape whispered.

“Oh gods,” Potter shuddered. “Yes, just… yes… please…now...”

“The young are so impatient,” Snape said with a smile. “Hold still.” Snape cast a spell to lubricate Potter, and then slid a finger slowly, enticingly, inside him.

“Snape… gods…” Harry cried, his tight muscles clamping around Snape’s finger. “I can’t hold on… I’m going to…”

Realizing it was a lost cause, Snape took one of Potter’s testicles gently into his mouth and pressed his finger against the sensitive gland inside.

Potter jerked violently and shouted his release, bucking his hips, coming hard and fast, his bum clenched around Snape’s finger, as he writhed and moaned and rode out his orgasm.

“Merlin’s balls,” Potter breathed, still squirming with spent pleasure, as Snape released the magical bonds that held Potter for his taking. Snape flicked his wand, banishing his clothes to the floor. He crawled up Potter’s body, slick with sweat and cum, and Potter grabbed him, pulling him down, kissing him hard.

“Easy, Potter,” Snape said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Potter let out a shaky laugh. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“So you’ve said,” Snape replied.

“Yeah, well, I just can’t believe you’re here.”

“Technically,” Snape said, running his hand through the other man’s messy hair, “since you broke into my quarters, _you_ are _here_.”

“Yeah,” Potter said. “Yeah, I did. I’m so glad I did.” Potter’s chest heaved as he strained to catch his breath. “I debated, you know?”

“You did something not completely impulsive?” Snape inquired, an eyebrow raised.

“Sort of,” Potter murmured. “I mean, I thought about it for about two seconds first.”

“Well, that’s two seconds longer than normal for you.”

Potter grinned. “I still want you.”

“Do you?” Snape queried.

“Yes,” Potter said. “I want to feel you cum inside of me.”

“Potter…” Snape groaned, his erection throbbing. His stomach swooped with pleasure as desire blinded a path through his nerves. He put his lips to Potter’s mouth, capturing Potter’s lips between his teeth, worrying them, laving them, and finally sucking Potter’s tongue into his mouth.

“You are a needy one, aren’t you?” Snape observed.

“Only with you,” Potter said.

Snape let that comment pass without allowing himself think too deeply on Potter’s words. Instead he slicked his fingers with magic and reached between them, stroking Potter’s crease and drawing sounds of pleasure from the man’s swollen lips.

“I want to be inside you, too,” Snape admitted, low and deep, as he slid a finger inside the man’s tight orifice.

Potter trembled beneath him, opening to him. Snape slid in another finger, and another.

“Have you done this before?” Snape asked, turned on by Potter’s slick tight channel.

“Once,” Potter said.

“Did you like it?” Snape asked.

“Umm… well…” Potter tossed his head and moaned.

Snape stroked Potter’s prostate and Potter shivered and ground his body against Snape’s touch.

“Well what, Potter?”

“Umm… we didn’t really know what we were doing.”

“And you think I do?” Snape asked.

“Clearly,” Potter responded. “Please…”

Snape dropped his head and took Potter’s recovering cock into his mouth. Potter cooed with approval and Snape felt his own erection strain with need. Snape worked Potter with mouth and fingers until the man was hard again and dripping with desire.

“Patience,” Snape murmured, sliding a fourth finger into Potter, who whined with need.

When Potter was stretched and ready, Snape eased his fingers out slowly, teasingly. Then he slicked his own cock and slid in with one long, slow stroke.

“Snape… Oh gods…. Oh. My. God.”

“Yes?” Snape asked and Potter laughed.

“You… this… AMAZING.”

“Wait,” Snape said. “It gets better.”

“Not possible,” Potter replied.

And then Snape started to move. A slow, lubricated glide, in and out, with Potter on his back and Snape over top of him, stroking him from the inside.

Potter let out a long, low moan of pleasure.

Snape slicked his hand and encircled Potter’s erection. Leaning over to whisper in the other man’s ear, he said, “I want you to come with me, Potter.”

Potter jerked at his words, pushing against Snape with his body, trying to take in more of Snape’s cock.

“Oh Merlin, yes,” Potter breathed, rocking into him. “You feel incredible. I… ohh…”

“Hold on,” Snape said, relaxing his grip on Potter’s erection to catch up to the virile younger man. He held Potter’s hips and thrust into him, faster, harder, gasping with pleasure as Potter grasped his shoulders, digging his fingers in.

With an oath, Snape grabbed Potter’s cock, caressed it, squeezed it, and then pumped it with his hand as he drove into Potter’s tight arse. Snape felt Potter’s fingers close on his nipples, and he lost it, lurching and coming with a shout, spilling his seed inside of Potter as Potter jerked and cried out, his cum coating the space between them, pulsing in time to the beat of Snape’s own release.

Snape collapsed on top of Potter, who clung to him, panting. Potter’s lips whispered across Snape’s neck and cheek, coming to rest on Snape’s mouth. Potter kissed him, slowly, decadently, their ragged breaths mingled.

“That was…” Potter said between kisses, “mind blowing...” Potter squeezed Snape around the middle. “Can we do it again?”

Snape chortled. “I am not a teenager anymore,” Snape reminded him.

“Mmm….” Potter purred, before dropping his arms and lying beneath Snape, spent.

Snape rolled off Potter and onto his back, sweat cooling on his body. He pulled up a sheet and offered it to Potter, who promptly accepted. Potter rolled to his side facing Snape, snuggling beneath the cover, resting his head on Snape’s chest and throwing a leg over Snape’s thighs.

“Mind if I stay a bit?” Potter asked.

“A bit as in a few hours? Or a few days?” Snape asked suspiciously.

Potter’s smile slackened on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

“Idiot,” Snape murmured, kissing him on the forehead before finding his own sweet dreams.

* * *

Harry awoke to the scent and feel of Snape wrapped around him, both naked from making love earlier in the day, the dream he was having still fresh in his mind. He and Snape had been sitting at a small table, drinking tea and playing chess. Snape had been much older, his black hair streaked with white. Harry had looked down at his own hands to see them veined and wrinkled, similarly aged. Awaking beside the man, still only in this 40s, Harry signed with contentment. He stretched and leaning over to kiss Snape’s quiescent lips. Relaxing, Harry smiled. The war was over and he, and Snape too he hoped, had finally found a sliver of peace.


End file.
